


Wicked Games

by Shamelessly_Radiant (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, F/M, Prompt: Blackboard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 21:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11322009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Shamelessly_Radiant
Summary: Gellert Grindelwald has two things Tom Riddle wants: The world & Hermione Granger. Tom Riddle intends to get them, of course.





	Wicked Games

_"Please wake up, please wake up. It's six o clock in the morning, and I am Dolores Umbridge, here to guide you through The Standard Procedure."_

Umbridge's voice continues sounding through the glinting silver devices that are standard in every room of the Institute Hogwarts, but the young man sitting on the bed does not pays it any attention. Anyone rarely does. They are all so familiar with The Standard Procedure that it is unnecessary to repeat it every morning.

Of course, say **_that_** to Umbridge and the woman would probably get a seizure before dying of cardiac arrest, as it is her life dream come through, having that much power in a society where no one is allowed power at all.

_(The speaker would be sent to NurmenGard or worse, AzKaban, but that's hardly news at all.)_

He stands up, and takes the one step necessary to get from his hard bed to the simple, closet. Hardly paying attention to what he picks out, everything is the same _anyways_ ; he reaches into it to collect the required Institute uniform-

Light grey pants, white shirt, dark grey blazer. His black, leather shoes stand between his bed and his desk, and his grey and green tie hangs from the back of his chair. The only colour they are allowed to wear, to _'show the world their true colours'_

**_Hilarious._ **

He crosses a day of the calendar _(Only five more to go, five more to go)_ and tosses the black marker onto his desk. Then he splashes some water onto his face, and starts shaving.

_Six and a quarter, you should now be finished with getting dressed.._

Racking a hand through his wavy dark hair, he throws a cursory look at the tiny mirror next to the closet.

"Meticulous as always,' says the mechanical voice, 'don't forget your blazer now, it's going to be 13 degrees today, chances of rain, and clouded'

Tom rolls his eyes, grabs the dark grey clothing piece of the hanger next to the door, and steps out of the door just as Umbridge announces:

_"Six thirty, please head down for breakfast now. Standard Procedure on hold. Rita Skeeter here, to bring you the daily news"_

The start of just another normal day.

Welcome.

XXX

It wasn't always like this of course. There was a time where the children in the institute had parents, had pets, lived a happy life.

There was a time before technology took over, a time where they played in the streets and television was a special treat, reserved for rainy Sundays, two hours as a reward for being kind, brave, _good little children._

There was a time before _He_ took over, the Ruler now, and forced the parents to work until they died, forced the children to work too, and drowned the babies he deemed too weak.

There was a time before _He_ married _Her_ , a demon in angel's disguise, who saved the babies and send them away instead, took the children out of the fabrics and build a place for them, cut down the work load of the adults and gave the elders a resting place, a _retirement home._

(She also seduced and killed two kings, stabbing them in the back, and poisoned their children, shot their wives, and choked their families so her husband could take over, force them again and then she could come and pretend to be good and start all over with The New World.)

He isn't bothered by this. He greatly admires their Ruler, scoffs at people who lament 'the good old days'. He does his part in this world and does it well.

_And he waits, quietly, sneaky, patiently until the day comes and he can take over, kill the Ruler and call himself Lord._

_He waits for the day he can claim **H** **er** and make her **His.**_

XXX

"Top marks as usual, Tom!" Exclaims his Professor, as if he is _still_ surprised by this fact.

He smiles, thanks him for the compliments and pretends to be humble and kind, pretends to be intelligent but shy, hides his real intellect behind fake book covers and questions even brainless people could answer, speaks facts and speaks with reverence of their Ruler and his Lady, never giving true opinions.

He plays the part and he plays it well. Whoever would suspect Tom Riddle to have anything to do with Myrtle's dead? Perfect, kind, humble, intelligent, shy Tom Riddle. Incomprehensible Slytherin.

Lies, masks and acting, and only written words concealed in a leather notebook whisper the possibility of _truths._

XXX

_"Please wake up, please wake up. It's six in the morning, and I am Dolores Umbridge, here to guide you through The Standard Procedure. Oh, excuse me, I mean the **Special** Procedure"_

And then she giggles, actually _giggles._

" _Oh what an exciting day, boys of the Institute Hogwarts'_

He doesn't know what amazes him more: that she actually repeats the same thing every day or that she giggles like a ten year old.

No matter, today is _indeed_ a special day.

He smirks and crosses the last day of his calendar.

XXX

"Settle down, kids, settle down-" Headmaster Dippet is yelling from the front, but his microphone isn't working and not one student is paying him any attention.

It is to be expected of course. Rarely to the boys from Institute Hogwarts get to mingle with the girls from Institute Beauxbatons. And there is also the tiny fact that the Ruler and his Lady are coming to visit today.

Gellert Grindelwald and Hermione Granger.

They are due for two in the afternoon, but Headmaster Dippet and Headmistress Mallemour decided to already let the students settle into the big, virtually unused theatre room to impress the Ruler with the organisation of the Institutes they created.

A **_hopeless_** endeavour really.

How they plan to keep the students entertained for more than an hour, and keep them quiet is something Tom does not really knows.

He sits on the third row from the back, alone. Abraxas Malfoy has already deserted him for the lovely Amalia Parkinson, and they are standing next to the wood covered walls, chatting away. Amusingly, Amalia already has a pretty pink blush on her face. Besotted with Abraxas, that girl is.

Rodolphus Lestrange, his left hand sit mate (or whatever) has also left for a girl. Bellatrix Lestrange is much more to Tom's liking, really, as she is beautiful to look at, has something wild and unique and _untamed_ and is also a decent conversation partner-

Alas, she (or any woman) is nothing like _Her._

Hermione Granger.

Dippet and Mallecour stand on the podium, talking in hushed tones and throwing anxious looks at the students. Behind them, an enormous white screen is suspended from the high ceiling, where the welcoming text will be projected. Dippet had run at least three test times a day, but judging by the wild way he is handling the control it is not working right now.

The prim, quiet girls of Beauxbatons are starting to get restless, whispering and chuckling to each other, and he distinctly sees one point at him, only to be swatted at by the other-

CRASH

The flowers on the table fall to the floor and Dippet's remote follows; a half hour and Grindelwald will be here-

BAM

The portrait of Albus Dumbledore falls to the ground, the man is now serenely smiling upside down.

The real one is of course, buried and rotting under the earth, but Grindelwald likes to hold the remembrance day as a reminder that he killed the most admired man in this society, his once best friend who turned against him and refused to work at Institute Hogwarts.

_"I refuse to partake in brainwashing, Gellert, call it education all that you like and buy pretty green and white blackboards and markers and crayon, you will not be able to hide the fact that you talk of technology in math problems and write children's stories with Death Eaters and Phoenixes and Mud Bloods."_

The Ruler had shrugged and turned around. With a snap of his fingers Dumbledore had fallen to the ground, trashing in pain, the effects of the CruCIO technology. Then Grindelwald had taken out the wand-prototype, and performed AvadKedvra and Dumbledore was no more.

His Lady had placed a delicate hand against her mouth and ordered a big, grand funeral for him, with pretty white roses.

Dumbledore _hated_ white roses.

Tom hadn't been sorry to see the man go, especially as he was the only one who suspected Tom of Myrtle. He hadn’t been sorry to see that one go either.

Two technicians are rushing inside and Umbridge's voice start's yelling from the speakers, the noise is so loud only a few hear her, voices and voices combined raising, laughing, yelling. Boys and girls kissing and touching and he can see Malfoy groping Parkinson rather hard, and the girl winces but allows the abuse on her left breast, and Rodolphus and Bella are coming his way, holding hands and-

The door burst open.

Everyone rushes to their seat.

Slughorn picks up Dumbledore's portrait and turns it around three times before placing it upside down on the holder. He rushes away, comes back and puts it the right way up, though slanted.

Vector is picking up the white and red roses, cutting herself with the spines and throwing them back. Dippet is still fumbling with the remote.

Umbridge runs in, hysterical, announcing that they have arrived, _they have arrived-_

She faints and is dragged away, her pink scarf trailing on the ground.

The Headmaster starts cursing and hitting the remote. He cuts himself off as the lights start flashing, accidently pushes the green button on his remote and-

And-

_Finally_

The welcome text flashes to light.

Just then, Grindelwald and Hermione stroll in, arm in arm, and Hermione smiles and points at the beautiful picture and the text.

WE, THE BOYS AND GIRLS FROM THE INSTITUTE HOGWARTS AND INSTITUTE BEAUXBATONS, COMBINED THE SALEM PROJECT

WELCOME THE GREAT RULER AND HIS LOVELY LADY TO OUR BEAUTIFUL SCHOOL

AND FEEL VERY HONOURED FOR THE VISIT.

Dippet breaths out and smiles, pretending everything went exactly right, and trying to discreetly wipe his sweaty hand palms. Mallecour is standing next to him, smiling too.

The Ruler and his Lady walk forward slowly.

Tom is not able to tear his gaze away from _her._

Their eyes meet. They hold. He then bows his head down as if he only is showing respect.

She nods graciously.

_And he, he senses something behind her eyes and his heart rushes faster and he feels triumphant he is grinning, his plan is working out, he feels powerful-_

_He is Tom Marvolo Riddle. He is cunning and patient and deceptive. He is intelligent and resourceful. He is the very embodiment of everything Salazar Slytherin stands for._

_And he always gets what he wants. **She** will be no exception._

XXX

"Now, please welcome Institute's Hogwarts and Institute's Beauxbatons most promising students on stage, Head Boy Tom Riddle and Head Girl Minerva McGonagall!"

Tom and Minerva stand up graciously, and walk towards the middle path. Tom then waits for Minerva, who was sitting several rows behind him on the girl's side.

They meet.

He holds out his arm for her to take.

She does, smiles but her eyes tell the truth.

They cannot stand each other.

 It doesn't matter. They are both intelligent, and they both know how to play this game.

They both know it would be life threatening to give up this pretence.

XXX

"My Lady," Tom murmurs, bows his head, presses lips to smooth skin. Beside him, Grindelwald is doing the same to Minerva, the girl trying to force a blush to her pale skin.

Tom knows everything about the society she has founded, about her hate for The Ruler and His Lady. He arches a dark eyebrow at her, and she looks away, wide eyed, and finally her skin colours.

What a pity. She would have looked lovely on the execution row.

He is still holding The Lady's hand, and she coughs discreetly to inform him of this fact. Pretending to just notice this fact, he lets go quickly, and whispers an apology in her ear. With triumph he watches the fine hair on her neck stand up when his breath touches her ear.

He is playing a dangerous game, and he knows it, but he has always lived for the rush.

Minerva and he switch positions, he and The Ruler shake hands, and The Ruler congratulates him on his brilliance, and offers him a position in his reign. Beside him, the Lady is hugging the girl.

Tom accepts.

He looks at The Lady and finds her eyes on his. She congratulates him again, gives him a half hug, and drops a piece of paper in his hand.

Nodding, he thanks her and discreetly puts it in his pocket.

They are send back to their seats, and so he offers his arm to the Head Girl once more, and together they descend the stage.

XXX

"It is a very dangerous game you are playing, Mr. Riddle" she remarks lightly.

He nods, looks her straight in the eye, "I know my Lady"

She is circling him, like an eagle would do to his prey, and Tom knows she will not hesitate a moment to attack, has seen the silver glint in her hand, knows that his fate depends on the answers he gives, knows that otherwise he will die in this abandoned classroom, without even graduating.

He knows all this. And while he should hate this feeling, should loathe not being in control of the situation, should despise her for making him doubt and be nervous, he-

It's _exhilarating_ , to lose control this way. What a revelation.

She must see it in his eyes, because she smiles, trails the knife lightly on his skin.

"I am not your ordinary girl, Mr. Riddle"

"Believe me, My Lady," he answers, "I know"

He does, and he tries to convey his sentiment by expressing honesty.

"Why me, then?" She whispers, as if she is tortured by this fact.

He turns around so fast that the knife cuts him.

"Oh," she exclaims, and is already dropping the knife before he even feels the sting on his neck.

He raises his hand, and then changes his mind, turning the wounded side to her.

"Do you not want to admire your masterwork?" he asks her, softly, and as she turns her face away he sees something he had never seen before in The Ruler's Lady's face.

Innocence.

He _hates_ it.

" _Look_ " he commands her, and takes her delicate chin in his hand, tugs it up with one sharp movement. "See what you have done. Why should I be different from the other kings and queens, and their families?"

Her eyes glint then, and she too takes his chin in her slender fingers, twists it around so hard it hurts him.

"I see it, Mr. Riddle," she says softly, "and it is like you said. You are _no_ different from the others. You are just like my darling husband are you not? You plan to use me, and then discard me?"

Her words are bitter, her voice hard. This is not the composed woman he admires. He is looking at the madness in the face, and it's _beautiful._

“Am I not bleeding for you, My Lady? Is that something he does for you as well?"

She turns away.

" _Is it_? Do not dare compare me to him." he commands coldly, his turn again to turn her face to his, and then he kisses her, and he paints her lips red with his blood, taking more and more on his finger, giving it to her.

She looks like a Goddess now, instead of a mere queen, and so he tells her this.

Shaken, she thanks him, turns to leave, and then turns towards him once more, fully composed, only her ruby, swollen lips hinting at what might have happened.

"Do not go too far away," she orders, and her face softens then, "I may call upon you once."

"I will come when you call, My Lady."

"Tom" she nods.

A smirk lingers on his lips for days afterwards, because her reaction to his answer is only a slight headshake.

"Hermione."

XXX

_Click-clack, click-clack, click clack._

_Her steps are slow and measured in her creamy pumps, nine inches._

_Click-clack, click-clack_

_Her heels echo on the white, polished marble floor, her red skirt swirling around her legs, reaches just above her knees._

_Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack._

_A pretty white blouse is tucked in, her lacy dark blue bra clearly showing, the blouse closes around her neck with a girly bow._

_Click-clack, click-clack._

_Her shoulders set back, her head held high, her hands behind her back. Her hair flows freely, bouncing with every step she takes._

_Click-clack, click clack._

_Almost there, Almost there._

_Click-clack, clic-clack._

_Almost over, Almost over._

_She knocks._

_She enters._

_XXX_

The news has him restless, and he paces, paces, ignoring Umbridge's urges to a healthy evening dinner, ignoring Abraxas' knocks on the door, cursing Lestrange when he dares enter.

He waits.

He _awaits._

Then, finally-

Finally.

XXX

_"Did you?" she asks viciously, "Did you?"_

_He does not answer, clawing at her, at his neck, gurgling._

_He does not need to answer._

_The crimson stains in her blouse will never come out, but that is the answer._

_She caresses his cheek softly, and he flinches away from her. She grabs a handful of blond hair and tugs him towards her, whispering the answer into his ear._

_"No, you never did. But now, I am **making** you bleed for me, darling, like you have made me do so many times for you"_

XXX

"I thought you'd never come"

"I wasn't planning to," she answers, "but then, my husband died, and he left me a grieving widow. Lonely... _and bored"_

XXX

_"And lastly, will you honour your country, and if necessary, give your life for it?"_

_"Yes” she answers again, her voice is steady, her tone not unkind._

_The man taking her vows sets the crown on her head carefully. The lightness of the golden crown surprises her._

_"Stand up now, and face your people. You shall never kneel down for anyone again, and they will all kneel for you. I present to you: The Lady, now... **Your queen!"**_

_At the words, everyone in the room sinks down on one knee, with bowed heads._

_"Stand up," she says after a second or two, and then ascends the stairs to the throne._

XXX

"Funny," he retorts, "that is exactly how I feel"

She smiles, and extends her hand to him.

He takes it.

Their eyes lock. There is a challenge, a message, a hidden threat in them.

He knows, she knows, _they know._

_They will fight, they will claw, they will bite, they will draw blood. They will fuck and they will scream and they will cry and they will laugh. They will caress and they will smile and they will kill._

_He will be King._

_She will be Queen._

_And eventually, the revelation._

_A Queen rules better with her King._

_A King only bows down to his Queen._

_They are nothing without each other. They are **everything** together._

_And so-_

_They will rule together, **forever.**_

**_End_ **


End file.
